


Triumvirate Outtakes

by cywscross



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Empathy, Established Relationship, F/M, Gen, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-11 23:08:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9039659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cywscross/pseuds/cywscross
Summary: An AU of an AU.  In a world where Peter chose to live, he has to admit – if only to himself – that he couldn’t have asked for better top betas.  Even if one of them is an Argent.  At least Stiles is the other one.Spinoff sequel of my fic i looked at you and saw forever.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Basically snippets in a what-if universe of _[i looked at you and saw forever](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5050768)_ where Peter let Stiles save him and remained the Beacon Hills Alpha. Self-indulgent fic because I wanted more Stallison + Alpha!Peter ^_^ I’ll try to keep the chapters in order but they might not all be so I’ll indicate when each scene takes place in the chapter summary.
> 
> (And I wanted to put something out around Christmas aside from my SSS fic, and none of my other works are ready so I’ve decided on this one.)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _[Takes place about two weeks after Peter saves Allison. Peter finally gets his own apartment.]_

 

_Crash!_

Peter’s eyes snap open, his brain almost instantly at full awareness as he searches for the threat that woke him.

“Stiles!”

“Whoops.”

It takes a few seconds, but eventually, Peter’s heartbeat slows, and he lets his fingers uncurl from where they were clawing into the mattress underneath him.

“Of all the things you could’ve dropped, it just _had_ to be the coffee machine?  You couldn’t have dropped the pillows or something?”

“It’s a coffeemaker, Ally, and it’s not even broken or anything, look.”

“I don’t care about the _machine_ , but I’ll eat my bow if that didn’t wake up everyone short of the dead.”

“Ah.  Don’t feel like dealing with Peter today?”

“More like don’t feel like dealing with _grumpy Peter_.  We don’t have coffee grounds, Stiles.  He growled at us the last time we couldn’t produce a mug of coffee for him.”

Peter rolls his eyes, stretches, and then languidly climbs out of bed.  He pulls on a spare shirt before padding out of the room and down the stairs.

He stops just inside the kitchen, leaning against the doorway as he takes in the scene before him.  There are a few boxes stacked against one wall, and there’s a coffee machine on the floor, still tipped over, the cord splayed out haphazardly like the coil of a snake.  And standing over it are two teenagers, whispering loudly to each other like they think that will prevent Peter from hearing them.

“And what are you two up to today?”  Peter enquires drolly, biting back visible amusement as he watches them jump.

“Peter!”

Stiles flails and almost falls over again.  The Argent girl’s hands twitch like they want to reach for a weapon.  Peter smiles pleasantly at her, which makes her twitch uncomfortably, and then he takes a few steps forward to catch Stiles by the elbow and ensure the dear boy actually stays on his feet instead of doing a face-plant on the kitchen floorboards.

“Gah!  Don’t do that!”  Stiles huffs, scowling, but he doesn’t yank himself away from Peter’s touch the way anyone else would have, and Peter’s wolf can’t help liking that.  The implied trust there, however new, however fragile.

 _Peter_ can’t help liking that.  These two are the closest things he has to Pack, and he knows it.  He feels the pull towards them both, especially Stiles because he _wants_ that bond with the boy, bright and brilliant Stiles, but he also saved the Argent girl not two weeks ago, _instinctually_ , and he knows what that means even if he won’t admit it.  Besides, she’s Stiles’ mate in all but deed so she would’ve been Pack by proxy even if she hadn’t rebelled against her entire family legacy for him.

No, not for him.  For Stiles.  By some miracle, Stiles managed to explain werewolves to her in a way that didn’t see her going off the deep end and taking after Kate, managed to secure her devotion too, and Peter’s certain the boy will never truly realize what a miracle that is.  She’s a sweet girl, _Allison_ , but she’s an Argent through and through.  Peter’s equally certain it would’ve taken very little to set her against him and all his kind if Stiles wasn’t there to prevent it.

So Stiles is his favourite, even if the boy in question doesn’t know it.  Of course, there’s not a whole lot of competition at the moment, all things considered, but Peter’s fairly sure he’d still like Stiles best even if there were.

He waits until Stiles is steady on his feet again before leaning down to retrieve the coffeemaker.  There isn’t even a dent – these things tend to be pretty sturdy.

“What, no growling today?”  The Argent girl asks dryly, stooping over to pick up another box and stick it with all the other ones.

Stiles grabs the last box by the door, and does the same, although he also digs into it and comes back with three cups and some teabags.

“Peter’s okay with tea, right?”  He shoots Peter a questioning look.  Peter responds with a shrug and a nod as he puts the kitchen appliance down on the counter.  Stiles grins and makes his way over to the stove where the kettle’s already been set out.  “See?  He was only cranky that day ’cause he woke up on the wrong side of his doggy bed.”

The boy gets a smack upside the head for that one, but – Peter ensures – light enough that Stiles only cackles through it.  Peter sighs long-sufferingly, but Stiles is happy, and Peter likes him that way so he can’t hold the dog jokes against him too much.

They’re soon seated around the dining table, each with a mug of tea in their hands.  Stiles and Allison sit next to each other.  They’re not particularly clingy or overly affectionate, Peter notes with some relief because the last thing he wants to put up with is public displays of teenage hormones all the time, but their shoulders brush, close enough that Allison’s dark hair tickles Stiles’ cheek, and while they sit in silence, it’s a perfectly comfortable one that requires no words to fill it.

Peter thinks, briefly, of Aria.  Then he very pointedly stops thinking of her and casts his mind about for something else to occupy it with.

His new apartment still looks sparse, although the boxes currently cluttering it will change that soon enough.  It feels far from lived in though, which can’t be helped.  That will hopefully change with time, which reminds him…

He fishes out two keys from a pocket in his sweats, pushing one across the table towards Stiles, and then – after a quiet plaintive sigh – pushes the other towards Allison.

“The guestroom is yours,” Peter says without fanfare, if only to hide the uncharacteristic undercurrent of nerves twisting his gut.

Even now, he doesn’t know if Stiles and Allison count themselves as his pack.  He hopes they do, even as he tells himself not to care if they don’t.

“For if you ever stay over,” He expounds when both teenagers blink at him, looking startled.  A sardonic smile makes its way onto his face.  “And so you can stop picking the lock whenever you come in through the front door.”

Stiles flushes a little, but he also grins unrepentantly, and Peter has to bite back a laugh of his own.  He amusement ebbs though as he continues to explain, meeting both teens’ eyes evenly, “Packs are usually big enough to share a house, but an apartment will suffice for us, for now.  I don’t expect you to move in of course; if nothing else, you’re still underage.  But it’s somewhere we can meet, when we need to.”  He pauses to sip at his tea some more.  “Or when you want to.  I’m sure parental supervision can get tedious.”

Even that, he thinks, is too much.  Gives away too much of himself, and he doesn’t have all that much left to begin with.  Just his pride.  And the blackened remains of his heart.  But he’s Alpha, which means he needs to try.  And these two… these two have yet to let him down.

(They don’t know just how much his sanity hinges on their actions these days, on their decisions, and he doesn’t ever plan on letting them know.)

Stiles and Allison share a look between them before they turn back to him.  Stiles shrugs and gulps down more tea.  “Sounds good to me.  It’s definitely better than meeting at Ally’s house-” Allison snorts delicately.  Stiles grins again.  “-and I think Mr. and Mrs. Argent can only take me in small doses right now, even if they did invite me to live at their place while Dad goes house-hunting.”

He reaches out and swipes up the key.  Allison does the same, and something in Peter slowly untangles itself.

“It’s probably safer too, if we have somewhere we all know we can go to if we’re apart and someone tries to kill us again,” Allison muses.  “I mean…” She grimaces a little.  “Kate and Gerard can’t be the only psychos out there killing supernatural creatures just for the heck of it, so at least we’ll have a…”

“Base of operations?”  Stiles offers, and Allison rolls her eyes but also quirks a smile.

“Yes, kinda,” She nods before glancing at Peter, and something warier enters her expression even as her spine straightens to steel.  “Mind if I stock this place with some weapons?  It’d be easier if I could keep some knives and a few guns here instead of smuggling them over all the time.”

Peter eyes her impassively before nodding once, curtly.  “Keep the majority in your room, but it would probably be smart to hide a few around the apartment too.”

Allison nods back, and their exchange tapers off into an awkward sort of standstill until Stiles clears his throat and draws both their attentions back to him.

“What about Scott?”  He asks abruptly, gaze intent on Peter.  “And Derek?  Is this apartment for them too?”

Peter’s lip curls with derision but he makes an effort to curb it from his tone.  “Well, I did turn Scott, even if I didn’t know who I was biting at the time, so I’ll take responsibility for him so long as he lets me.  And Derek is my nephew.  Unless he joins a different pack, blood ties are what matters here.  Besides, both of them live in Beacon Hills – they’d fall under my jurisdiction either way.”  He glances down at his tea.  “You can tell them the location of this apartment, if you see either of them before I do, but I only have so many spare bedrooms, and I doubt they’ll want to spend any length of time in close quarters with me anyway.”

Pack, but not Pack.  And if Peter is being honest, he doesn’t want them anyway.  One betrayed him six years ago – he doesn’t need a wolf with no loyalty, not even to family, who cut and ran when the going got tough and didn’t even have the decency to put Peter out of his misery before he left.  Peter doesn’t care that Laura was Alpha; the majority of the blame can be laid at her feet, and – half out of his mind at the time – Peter killed her for it, but Derek himself isn’t mentally deficient, and he made his own decisions all those years ago.  _Bad_ decisions, but then it isn’t as if the stupid boy has ever made a single good one of his own in his entire life.  And any obligation Peter might have felt to shelter his nephew has long since crumbled along with their pack bond.

As for the other… the other doesn’t care for being a werewolf, doesn’t have the instincts either, as far as Peter can tell.  More than once, he laments the fact that it wasn’t Stiles he chanced on and bit that night.  But then, Stiles is dangerous enough as a human.  He might actually be too much to keep up with as a werewolf.  Still, Peter thinks he would’ve liked to see it, and it isn’t too late – Stiles may yet say yes one day.  Peter will wait, and he’ll offer if and when Stiles ever seems like he might want it.

But the reality of it is that he bit Scott, and it doesn’t seem as if Derek will be leaving anytime soon.  Peter is Alpha now, sane too, and the weight of responsibility is on his shoulders.  So he’ll try and do right by them both, offer them a place in his pack, but if they continue rejecting him out of hand, he’s going to have to make the inevitable choice of kicking them out of his town.  Pack bonds can’t be forced, not really.  Derek and Scott don’t have to want it, but they do have to accept it if any kind of connection is to be forged.  Or reforged in Derek’s case.

When he looks up again, Stiles has a far too knowing look leveled on him, but the boy also has the decency not to voice whatever he’s gleaned from Peter’s words, which Peter supposes he should appreciate.

Stiles sees too much.  Sometimes, Peter forgets it’s a skill that can be turned against him too, but at the same time, it’s also one of the reasons he likes Stiles so much in the first place.

“It would be nice not to have Derek around glowering at us all the time,” Stiles remarks instead.  “Or else you might have to taze him again, Allison.”

Allison smirks, and for a split second, she looks enough like her aunt that Peter has to grit his teeth against the push of his fangs.

“If he lays a hand on me again, I make no promises,” Allison retorts, something fierce and resolute setting the line of her jaw, and Peter makes a mental note to himself to have a little chat with Derek about anger management.  Maybe even force the idiot into some therapy.  God knows Laura probably didn’t make him go if Derek grew up to be the angry guilt-curdled mess he is today.  There are days when Peter daydreams about ripping his nephew’s throat out, but most of the time, no matter how much he resents him, he doesn’t actually want Derek dead, and that’s exactly what he’ll be if he continues with the violence against these two particular teenagers.

Derek underestimates them.  Peter isn’t entirely sure if that’s because they’re still technically children and that’s enough to make Derek dismiss them or because Derek is just that naïve, but even after Stiles threatened him, as Peter gathered from that charming confrontation at Macy’s that turned all his plans upside-down, and after everything Stiles has done for the Hale family, Peter knows that his nephew still doesn’t really respect the boy, or even respect what he can _do_ when provoked.

Foolish.  But foolish might as well be Derek’s middle name.

Peter polishes off the last of his tea.  As if on cue, Allison uncurls from her chair, and Stiles clambers to his feet as well, taking his girlfriend’s mug off her, and then plucking Peter’s from his hands as well before bustling all of them over to the sink.

Peter watches him for a moment, the way he automatically rinses the mugs with a familiar ease that not many teenagers are even capable of.  But Stiles does this at home too, tending to all the chores like he’s been doing them for years, and Peter suspects he has.  The few weeks he spent in the Stilinski house gave him more insight to Stiles than any interrogation would have.

He glances at Allison.  The girl is also watching Stiles, her expression fond but with a slight frown marring her brow as if she’s thinking along the same lines as Peter.

“Right then,” The water shuts off, and Stiles turns back to them as he dries his hands.  “Back to unpacking?”

Peter shrugs lightly, suppressing the purr of delight in his chest at the fact that Stiles is choosing to spend more time here.  The apartment doesn’t smell enough like Pack yet.  “If you don’t have a date to get to.”

It’s Allison who rolls her eyes, already poking at the nearest box.  “Wouldn’t be here if we did.  This is more important than a date anyway, isn’t it?”

Stiles nods in agreement, picking up a clipboard and scanning the list he made earlier of the boxes’ contents.  “Yeah, and besides, we can’t let you do all the heavy-lifting, Peter.”  A wicked grin curves his mouth.  “Wouldn’t want you to throw out your back, right?”

Peter growls at him, Stiles laughs, and Allison bites her lip in a way that does nothing to hide the mirth in her eyes as she looks between them.

It’s Peter’s turn to roll his eyes as he joins them by the boxes containing both the belongings he retrieved from the family vault, as well as all the things they’ve bought over the past week to furnish his apartment.

He pauses for a moment, in the process of scooping up the toaster.  Then he reaches for Allison instead, who stiffens a little but holds still when all he does is run a hand from her shoulder down her bare arm.  It’s good that she’s wearing a short-sleeve.  And then he reaches for Stiles, who – luckily for Peter – isn’t wearing a t-shirt, so Peter gets to clasp a hand around the back of the boy’s neck instead, lingering briefly before pulling away again.

Stiles lets him scent-mark, same as Allison, although they all know the neck is far more vulnerable than an arm.  But Stiles doesn’t protest, and when the two teens glance at each other again over Peter’s shoulder, Allison just looks exasperated, and Stiles shrugs back.  Neither seem offended or even surprised.

Without a word, they resume unpacking, and Peter allows himself to relax a little.

He knows that they understand what he just did, what it means, and while they didn’t return it, they also didn’t shy away or refuse the gesture, and for now, that’s enough for Peter.

Pack takes time, and nowadays, with Gerard dead and Kate in jail and the Argents fallen from power, with him no longer stuck in a coma – _alone and weak and defenceless_ – and two potential betas orbiting around him, Peter has all the time in the world to make his pack work.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t really have a plotline for this. If there’s something specific in this verse that you want to see, leave it in your comments and I’ll write it if I decide it fits and I have the motivation for it.
> 
> (Also I am vaguely tempted to veer off into Peter/Stiles/Allison territory and see how many people I can scandalize or piss off XD)


End file.
